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Chapter 1.
Back With The 'Rents
[Kaela Rogers, Age: 22]
With a sigh, Kaela glanced once more at the
text that she had gotten only a few hours ago while at the office.
A knot in her tummy, shortly accompanied by butterflies, Kaela
entered the London flat that she resided in with her parents. The
text, to the point, presented in her mum's typical forthright way: Friday after work activity, cancel, get home. No clubbing, or
going out with coworkers . Kaela didn't need to ask why her mum
had ordered her to stay in; she sort of had expected it. Getting
the text however put a gloom on Kaela's mostly enjoyable work
day.
On her way through the flat's parlor toward
her bedroom, Kaela wasn't a bit stunned when she discovered that
the antique chair had been moved out into the room's center, ever
bothersome in front of the flat's wide windows, a lone 'antique'
among the otherwise ultra-modern furnishings. Kaela cheerlessly
remembered the day she and her mum had gone to choose it. Mum had
instructed her to wear jeans that afternoon for their visit to the
shop, so as to protect Kaela's budding womanly virtues. Before mum
purchased the accoutrement, meant for one purpose, she had wanted
to be sure that the chair 'fit' her daughter's measurements. Kaela,
all nerves, and flushed had done as mum instructed. Bent over,
gripped the lower crossbar, bum up. Over the slight, bowed back,
Kaela found herself lifted on tip-toes. Mum had approved, and
handed Mr. Martin his money.
At the memory, Kaela reddened. Mr. Martin, a
family friend had known exactly what her mum wanted the chair for.
Once again, the heavy accessory would be used for the purpose which
it had so often been employed to during her teenage years. Kaela
thought at nineteen she had been done getting her ass caned, moving
back in with her parents though at twenty-two, for financial, as
well as numerous personal reasons proved that notion to be
exceedingly wrong. Mum's thin, yellow cane waited, hooked on the
chair, ready for Kaela's bare buttocks to slice to pieces. Poor
her, such a short reprieve from not being obligated to raise her
ass to incur a proper thrashing.
Up in her room, Kaela slipped off her
expensive Italian shoes, unzipped the narrow sheath of her pencil
skirt, all while she admired her reflection in the rooms floor
length mirror. Not how she wanted to spend a Friday night, that's
for sure, getting prepared to be caned. Honey-colored hair fell
below her shoulders, framed a heart shaped face, where two big
green eyes gleamed. An upturned nose, her face's cutest feature,
painted her a girl, no a woman rather, who came across as quite
self-assured, all haughty poise, with a princess attitude. Beneath
her left eye, a beauty mark made Kaela's spectacular face even more
appealing. The rest of her body wasn't bad either, and she knew it.
Every male at Regency, the PR firm where she worked leered in her
direction, and ached for a good grope.
Kaela unbuttoned her shirt, buoyant, D-Cup
tits jutted out of a Caressa Roza, cream color floral bra. Over to
her bed she went, sat and began to roll chocolate hued stockings
off shapely suntanned legs. Free of the hosiery, she got up and
headed toward the bathroom, unlatched her bra as she went, let it
drop on the tile floor. In the loo, she stepped out of her bra's
matched knickers. Finally bare, Kaela's trimmed carpet, which as it
were matched the drapes, a well groomed triangle tantalizingly
arrowed en route to her pussy, which tingled in nervous expectation
of her punishment. Kaela flipped on the shower. Mum always wanted
her to bathe before she got whipped. Anyway, the cane went much
better on a moistened, warmed flesh.
Still hurt like fuck!
Clipping her hair up, Kaela stepped into the
rush of water. For the moment, she closed her eyes, enjoyed the
heat that streamed over her fit body. Pouring wild cherry blossom
bodywash all over her boobs, her nipples hardened at her touch,
Kaela massaged herself, caressed each
Learning to Kill: Stories